"Sharp, quirky, and occasionally nettlesome", Walking the Berkshires is my personal blog, an eclectic weaving of human narrative, natural history, and other personal passions with the Berkshire and Litchfield Hills as both its backdrop and point of departure. I am interested in how land and people, past and present manifest in the broader landscape and social fabric of our communities. The opinions I express here are mine alone. Never had ads, never will.

March 24, 2015

These words are written on my grandfather's grave, carved on local field stone plucked and scoured by ice and sea. There is a family story that goes with it, and this other meaning will pass from general knowledge when none of us now living is around to explain it. That is one of the reasons I started this blog nearly a decade ago, back in the fall of 2005 when my head and heart were full of ideas and memories that needed a new outlet for expression. It was to leave a record, even in this most ephemeral of electronic media, for others to find and follow.

Since then, my interests have taken new directions and found new outlets. I started writing a nature column for the local paper, and that is where my environmental writing has gone ever since. There is enough material now to compile into book form, a project I hope to pursue. Social media supplanted blogging as an outlet for the short form post with immediate reader feedback. My personal life took new directions as well, and I no longer spend nights up late at night, avoiding unhappiness at home.

I stopped writing here on a regular basis several years ago, but I still blog elsewhere. Instead of a general purpose blog I have three specialized ones.

My interest in 18th century material culture research and living history finds serious expression in the newest of these: "Another Pair Not Fellows; Adventures in Research and Reinterpreting the American Revolution." I am still proud of the historical research I conducted and present here at Walking the Berkshires, especially the series which was recognized with a Cliopatria Award in 2008 and the documentation behind four posts on the march of Burgoyne's Convention Troops through Connecticut which was accepted in research paper form as an addition to the collections of the David Library of the American Revolution.Over time, I will probably archive relevant material from Walking the Berkshires here, possibly after first reformatting them as .pdfs on Scribd. There are a couple that ought to be presented as scholarly research papers, and a seventeen post series with broken links is not really the best way to present that material.

My irreverent sense of humor and love of the scholarly send up produced the fictional Journal of Constant Belcher, a wholly contrived character whose misadventures during the American Revolution make such convincing use of actual documentary evidence that I inadvertently mislead the entire Revolutionary War Reenacting community when I announced its "discovery." I had assumed that entries such as the following made with tongue planted firmly in cheek would have been a dead giveaway - Maj. Bloomfield bid me make a place for his horse in the boat for crossing to Cuckoldstown / Gave it green pippins from his haversack So that it might ease our passage with a copious wind/. Sadly it was all too believable, and there are places in the hobby today where the mere mention of Belcher's name causes eyes to roll and brows to furrow. There is a Facebook Page for Constant Belcher, too, where the social media are alerted to my latest discoveries from his journal.

Finally, there is a blog called Cornflower Blue & Corduroy; Wargaming the German - Herero and Nama Wars of 1904 -1908. This is a new direction for two old interests - a love of painted miniatures and of Namibia. I have a very small circle of people with whom to share this area of historical inquiry and recreational pursuit, but it has involved my learning to decipher and translate German in the old Fraktur font and presenting my findings, sometimes for the first time, in English translation.

As for Walking the Berkshires, it is so well diffused in the electronic media stream that I still get contacted through email by people who have found one of my old posts. I see my role for now as its curator, tending the archives without adding new acquisitions. This blog made many important connections and friendships for me, in particular with the genea-blogging community, many of whom I still find on Facebook. It deserves to be cared for rather than abandoned.

Gone fishing was requested as an epitaph by my grandfather, Robert Howard Barker, after talking about the great uncertainties of death with his young son Robbie. The idea of burial and what happens to the body and spirit is a lot for any person to absorb, particularly a young child. Robbie had been learning about the water table in school, and so resolved this great mystery by announcing that after he was buried, he would go fishing in the water table. My grandfather announced then and there that "Gone Fishing" is what he wanted on his gravestone.

January 09, 2014

There are moments in life when something happens that only you can fully appreciate, when opportunity seems to have crossed your path because whatever it is, you are the one who was meant to find it. At such times, this is your moment to act, no matter how whimsical the impulse or hard it may be to justify to others. My mother once got a black Labrador puppy that way at a school auction, and it is a good thing the hound latched on to my father afterwards because Dad could not imagine what had possessed her to do it.

For me it began with one of those classic parenting moments when the kids were acting up in the back seat and I pronounced sternly that I was turning the car around and heading home unless they knocked it off. To reenforce my threat I turned right when I otherwise would have turned left and headed past the darkened storefronts of our town in Northwest Connnecticut. As I neared the intersection where I had planned to complete the circle and head back in the direction we had been travelling, my partner noticed something unusual poutside the Stateline Auction House and commented; "There's a statue of a beefeater over there." I practically made a U Turn in the intersection. I knew at once what it was. There couldn't be two of them.

Sure enough, it was a carved and painted wooden statue, in the cigar store indian style, of a Yeoman of the tower guard, complete with all the regalia from his halberd to his knee garters. It was cold and dark, so she couldn't give it a thorough inspection, but I was convinced it was the very same statue that had once stood in front of Maggiacomo's liquor store in my hometown, Millbrook NY. And so it turned out to be.

The beefeater was carved in 1976 by artist Peter Wing, who still lives in the area where I grew up. He arrived in Millbrook in 1969 after serving in Viet Nam. Around the time of the bicentennial, Millbrook had at least six of his carved creations in front of various stores. A beefeater was an appropriate choice for the liquor store, and John Kading's Corner News sported a classic cigar store indian. There was a clothing store called The Haberdasher which had a mustachioed gent all in black with a top hat, and the ice cream parlor Jamo's had a victorian beauty, complete with bustle, wearing a dress the color of black raspberry. The deli had some sort of a dwarfish figure rather like a punch and Judy puppet that was straddling a barrel, and the Millbrook Diner had a magnificent ship's figurehead.

Within a few years, some of the stores had closed and the statues went with them. The Diner's figurehead was so weathered that several years ago it was removed and a new one created (though not by Wing) as part of the renovation. I often wondered what became of the other pieces, and never expected to see one of them again, let alone have the opportunity to own it.

But now here it was in all its glory, and from the looks of it it was in remarkably fine shape. Wherever its journey had taken it since it left the liquor store, this beefeater had not been exposed to the elements. I decided that if it could be had for a price that would not ruin me, I would go to the auction and win it.

It turned out that this piece had already been up for auction but had not met its minimum and was not scheduled to be a lot in the next auction either. I asked whether I could know the minimum bid and the woman I spoke with said she thought the auctioneer might be willing to sell it to me for whatever it was.

When she called me back I had already determined the maximum amount I was willing to pay for this extravagant recapturing of a piece of my childhood. I figured that either the minimum bid was much too high, or that maybe it just didn't attract enough interest from local buyers who lacked the association with the piece that I did. Or maybe they had nowhere to put the thing. I prepared myself to be disappointed.

And much to my surprise, the number they gave was less than I feared, and very likely les that it would be worth to the right collector. Today I picked it up, and they tossed in the wooden pedestal they had displayed it with that had just the right colors and came form an old mill in Ansonia, CT. I learned that the auction house had acquired it from an estate sale in Millerton, NY, about midway between here and where it all started in Millbrook. Then I drove it home.

Now there is a cigar store beefeater in my living room, and someday soon I'll contact Peter and let him know that one of his creations has found the right home.

June 06, 2013

There have been some concerns raised in the land trust community that one of the impacts of climate change will be the displacement of some native species by others that are expanding their ranges. A recent article by Attorney James L Olmsted entitled: "The Butterfly Effect: Conservation Easement, Climate Change and Invasive Species"suggests a number of changes that land Trusts can make to their easement language to anticipate this problem, but the underlying premise that in-migrating North American species "will in many cases be invasive" is on questionable scientific ground.

It is wrong to think
of species and natural communities as static and restricted to where they are
today, or were at the time of European contact.

The term “Invasive” is
both relative in space and time and too
broadly applied to North American species that are expanding their
natural ranges in response to environmental factors and opportunities. Birds have been doing this for a very long
time. The black vultures now present in
large numbers in Connecticut were not found north of Maryland in the first part
of the 19th century (all those dead horses at Gettysburg gave them a
beachhead). Cardinals were not part of
my mother’s Massachusetts girlhood. Coyotes
are filling an available large predator niche after the extirpation of wolf and
cougar populations.

The term “Invasive” has more validity when it is restricted to introduced species, and then only to those which have such characteristics as spreading across
spatial gaps, establishing virtual monocultures and multiple dispersal methods. Having these attributes, species
should be demonstrated to displace and
outcompete native species to be considered invasive. Under this
definition, House Sparrows are invasive, but Cattle Egrets which, bless their
hearts, got here by crossing the Atlantic Ocean and the Caribbean all on their
own, are not.

When I was part of the Massachusetts Invasive Plant Advisory Group that
developed criteria to determine which species should be considered invasive or
potentially invasive in the Commonwealth, we had a very hard debate about Black
Locust (Robinia pseudoacacia), a central Appalachian species which can be
problematic in pine barren systems in the Northeast. Had the glaciers receded a few thousand years
earlier, Robinia would likely have expanded its natural range a few hundred
miles further north, resulting in a different kind of natural community where
it overlapped with pitch pine and scrub oak.
Humans helped it make the jump, planting Black Locust for fence poles
(which sometimes resprouted!).

My advice for anyone drafting a conservation easement or management plan is to start by answering
the question; “What are we trying to conserve and managing for?”
The question of invasiveness relates directly to whether a species
impacts the viability of conservation targets. The best example I can remember from my TNC
days concerned a fen in NJ that was also a bog turtle site. The fen had a large and expanding incursion
of purple loosestrife (an exotic species non-native to North America). There were two possible conservation targets
to manage for at this site: the rare natural community represented by the fen,
and the federally threatened bog turtle species. The condition of the fen was severely
degraded and attempting to eradicate the loosestrife threatened worse
disturbance as well as the bog turtles that still were using it, so it was
determined not to try to manage the fen as fen, but as bog turtle habitat. The bog turtle basking areas were being shaded out by the loosestrife, so
the management prescription was to cut the loosestrife stalks by hand each year
before they set seed. This took several
days of cutting by hand, but was the best response available to conserve the primary
conservation target.

So, if we are managing for rare and restricted habitat types, some of
which will not be viable in their current configuration, or indeed in any form with
climate change, we are making a choice to prioritize them against the
prevailing forces of change. That may
indeed be the right thing to do, but even then the calcareous fens of Connecticut
will not have the same species composition and structure as those in Maryland
even when our climate changes to that of Maryland today.
There are special gaps that are unlikely to be crossed by native fen
species present today in Maryland but not in Connecticut. That is the beauty of natural variation. Diversity matters, but it plays out in many
different ways from site to site.

Especially with large, “functional” landscapes, the idea is not to
manage them to maintain exactly the species types and forest composition of
today, but so that they are robust and resilient enough to maintain
biodiversity, in whatever forms may be viable in the future. Invasive plants may well be a factor that
needs to be accounted for, but it does not begin or end with a list of species
that are “meant to be here” and others that are not.

January 25, 2013

There has been a prolonged cold snap here in the Litchfield Hills and across much of the Northeast this week. Back when I had facial hair, this kind of weather would have frozen the condensation of my breath in my beard and mustache. We have dipped below zero, into territory that is increasingly unusual in our warmer winters here in Southern New England. I've seen colder weather, and been out in it much longer, but it is mighty cold nonetheless.

I have watched the ice freeze hard and fast in the river and over the wider lakes and ponds. I wonder whether black ice will form, that sleek obsidion surface that is the finest of all for skating, and if I will have an opportunity to get out on any of it before if gets obscured by snow or marred by thaw. I remember with great fondness those chidlhood winter days with pond hockey on black ice and hope to experience that again.

The igloo my kids and I made last week was still solid but reduced by warmer weather when the big chill took hold. Now it is diamond hard, its skeleton of snow blocks distinct but strong. We made ice lanterns by freezing balloons filled with water and at night these now glow in the piercing cold.

I do not expect the low temperatures to last. We could easily swing back on a 50 degree arc, and find it suddenly Springlike. Out here on the end of the scale, it is worth pausing to fill my lungs with that sharp, cold air, remembering how it felt when facing the next heat wave, perhaps in April, as was the case several years ago.

January 24, 2013

Haverford College was a special place for me, and I continue to feel its influence in my life nearly a quarter century since graduation. Its Quaker foundations were self evident without being overbearing, more the medium for the culture of a flourishing community than a rigid behavioral directive.

Among its notable attributes was a self enforcing honor code, a commitment to consensus, and an obligation to dialogue. The latter proved a challenging concept, for to do it well meant to be open to new insight gained through engagement, while also confronting difficult issues and relationships with clear-eyed candor.

Some of my classmates were predisposed toward confrontation rather than dialogue, and more at home speaking truth to power instead of listening and reflecting closely. Others became paralyzed by self reflection, unable to navigate the existential crisis that often attends a dawning awareness of complicity in systems of power and privilege. I tried to find the center of these extremes, though not always successfully, and not always risking the more uncomfortable, but perhaps more candid approach.

Since my time at Haverford, I have grappled with the implications of the words of Abraham Joshua Heschel;

"...indifference to evil is worse than evil itself...in a free society, some are guilty, but all are responsible."

I come at this from the perspective of one who prefers - in fact, who has found it professionally quite useful - to find common ground with those who may hold other values quite different from my own. There are readers of this blog who share my love of history but not my politics. There are friends of mine in the reenacting community whose company I greatly enjoy, but who hold certain beliefs and share things on Facebook that make me cringe: statements with which I have no wish to be associated.

Social media, and Facebook in particular, offer the quick and the simple over the thoughtful and nuanced. It is not a forum for serious and searching debate. It wants to sort and group us (and market to us based on those associations). It rewards our every utterance with "Likes" from a collective of "friends" who in aggregate may have very few points of common interest or continuity in our lives. In fact, I suspect that having all of my Facebook Friends get together for a social function might prove less successful than just asking 400 random people to drop by for food and conversation and letting the chips fall as they invariably may.

On the other hand, having a dozen of my reenacting friends who did not previously know each other come down the shore for a weekend of sun and discovery together last year worked far better. People made connections and found they shared interests beyond this hobby, and our conversations did not devolve to spurious quotes, political rants, or occasionally tone deaf humor, as tends to happen with social media.

This is understandable. People behave differently when the conventions of courtesy and hospitality apply to social interaction. We do not wipe our muddy feet on our host's carpet, but what gets posted on one wall ends up in a friend's feed, and sometimes it has a similar effect.

Walt Whitman was comfortable with his own shifting viewpoints; "Do I contradict myself? Very well then, I contradict myself. I am large, I contain multitudes." I think the obligation to dialogue that I learned at Haverford requires conviction leavened by humility. There are a few absolutes that for me remain immutable. Cross those lines and I risk "indifference to evil". Beyond that, though, there are many, many, many ways to approach ideas that challenge my own and make me uncomfortable. It doesn't work so well when I am defensive, or tired, or lack the time to give a thoughtful and considered reaction. Sometimes I have to sit with that feeling and puzzle it out.

I was raised by two loving parents who are staunchly non violent. I love living history and reenact Revolutionary War battles. It does not follow that I support the NRA, or vote 100% for one party over another, or even understand the Constitution and our Founding generation the way that others may. There are not enough data points in this sample for someone to make those assumptions about me, and I try to accord others the same courtesy.

I am reaching the point, however, where I am no longer willing just to ignore or block the tone and content of what sometimes gets shared on Facebook about 2nd amendment rights. I add things up differently, and for me nothing trumps 20 murdered first graders and six fine educators, each killed by multiple rounds fired from a legally obtained semi automatic rifle.

The Constitution has been amended 27 times precisely because times change and the Founders, however wise and farsighted, were not omniscient. I see a need today to reconcile an individual's right to bear arms with the need for reasonable and prudent safeguards to apply to legal gun ownership.

If that ends up meaning that as a result of new legislation, I require a firearms permit for my replica antique flintlock, and some sort of firearms safety training, and even a background check, before I take the field to play at war with my friends, I am willing to abide by those conditions if it means our children and grandchildren are safer at school. I do not believe that if we give an inch on gun safety laws we will lose our right to bear arms, but I do believe we cannot replace the lives of those children, and too many others, who are killed in gun violence every day in this country.

I find I still have an obligation to dialogue on this and other difficult, challenging issues - respectful, direct, courageous and sincere dialogue. Facebook is not the place for that, and it probably won't happen in the comments to this blog post either. The next time you and I get together, though, around a campfire or across the dinner table, we can talk about this stuff. We have to. I promise to listen to you and consider your words carefully. I hope despite what differences may remain, that we continue to hold each other in respect and will remain friends,in the truest sense of that word.

December 23, 2012

There were a large number of outakes from the photo montage at left, and not every living history event that I attended this year made the cut. True, it would have been be difficult to provide a photograph from the Battle of Trenton reenactment since it will take place next week, but even so there were so many great moments this year it was very hard to select a representative sample.

This year I fell out with four different units, and can now prick and prime a cannon, row a battoe, dig a firebox and construct a brush arbor (not once but twice!).

I spent another weekend in the huts at Jockey Hollow (not, however, the most recent one, though I am absolutely game to help with the phoenix-like reconstruction of hut #3 when that gets underway in the New Year).

I also visited three schools in NY and CT, the Union County Historical Society in NJ, and took part in an event sponsored by my employer to celebrate the history of the Housatonic River in our region. I got a ride in an antique car when I showed up at my Town's Memorial Day parade in my continental regimentals.

This was the year that my two children got to participate in my hobby, attending the two day event at Rockford Plantation in Lancaster, PA as well as Germantown. Emily can wear Talya's clothes, and Talya converted a linen shirt and trousers of hers to fit Elias. I am deeply grateful to her for not only tolorating this hobby of mine but finding ways to participate that work for her. She did five events this year in full costume, including stays, ,as well as the Housatonic River day.

My militia kit got a huge boost thanks to the sewing skills of Heather Clark Vogeley and Cozy Bendezky. I now have more fashion choices than the average ragged Continental. We have a good tent, modified to be a better representation of period examples.

Best of all, though, are the friendships that continue to grow and strengthen through our participation in reenacting. We invited a long list of friends and aquaintances from the hobby to join us at Windrock and about a dozen of them took us up on the offer. My dear friend Larry Schmidt and I met up in New York to pore through an unpublished journal from the Revolution, looking for clues about a flag associated with Maxwell's New Jersey Brigade. The 2nd NJ and the 35th Regt of Foote had a first, last supper at Oriskany complete with white linen and a china plate halo. I am greatly looking forward to seeing many of these good friends at Trenton on the 29th, and to new adventures together in 2013.

October 26, 2012

The 1st New Jersey Regiment of the Continental line lost a number of its officers to wounds and disease during the course of the American Revolution. Major Joseph Morris was mortally wounded in the fight at White Marsh, PA near the end of the Philadelphia campaign in December, 1777 while on detached service with Morgan's Rifle Corps. Captain Andrew McMires (or McMyers) was killed before the Chew House at Germantown. Ensign Martin Hurley, wounded in the same fight, was captured, identified as having deserted from the British Army at Boston, and summarily hanged. Major Daniel Piatt died of disease in April,1780.

While each of these losses were felt by the regiment, the death of Captain Peter van Voorhees received widespread notoriety as an alleged Tory atrocity. As the event in question happened on this date in 1779, it seems appropriate to take time to examine the available evidence surrounding the circumstances of his death.

Captain Peter van Voorhees is sometimes confused in later histories with others of that name or rank. He was born in 1758, the son of Lucas Minnesen van Voorhees (1718-1791) and Cathrina Vandervoort of New Brunswick, New Jersey. His grandfather, Minne Lucase van Voorhees, was born on Long Island but by 1717 was a member of the Dutch Reformed Church in New Brunswick.

In October, 1779, the 1st New Jersey Regiment was newly returned from participating in Sullivan's Expedition against the Iroquois and was then encamped with the army at Easton, Pennsylvania. Apparently Captain van Voorhees was granted leave around this time to go home to New Brunswick, perhaps even to be married. He was also serving at this time as the regimental paymaster. John Polhemus, previously also a Captain with the 1st New Jersey, was also in the area, having be been declared a supernumary officer, and would be captured during the Loyalist raid on October 26th, 1779 in which Van Voorhees would lose his life.

Lt. Colonel John Graves Simcoe was the commander of the Queens Rangers, and the leader of a combined Loyalist force of cavalry and infantry that together made a daring raid from Staten Island into New Jersey in the early morning hours of October 26th, 1779. The main object of the raid was to destroy a large number of flat boats that were intended for the use of Washington's Army, and possibly also to surprise and capture Governor Livingston who was thought to be at Middlebrook. Simcoe personally lead about 80 mounted men, including the Hussars of the Queens Rangers, Capt. Sanford's Bucks County (PA) troop of loyalist horse, and another dozen local guides and Jerseymen under Captain James Stewart.

Such raids back and forth between New Jersey and loyalist Staten Island were very common during the war. Acts of retribution and accusations of atrocities were commonplace and sometimes proved true. Simcoe's raid was particularly audacious and encompassed a ride of over 65 miles, but along the way he missed his turn and went further than he intended. The landmark he and his guides were looking for was a house at a crossroads belonging to Captain Van Voorhees' cousin Garret that, unbeknownst to them, had been burned by the British back in June of 1777. Before he realized his mistake, Simcoe and his troopers were at the outskirts of New Brunswick.

The alarm had been raised and a group of Middlesex County militia under Captain Moses Guest confronted Simcoe's troop. In postwar memoirs, both Simcoe and Guest recounted the events that followed. As Guest recalled;

"I was informed by an express, that the enemy was within a few hundred yards of me; I had just time to get to an open piece of woods when they made their appearance. We attacked them as they came up; but they came on so rapidly, that we could only give them one discharge. Col. Simcoe's horse received three balls, fell on him, and bruised him very badly; there was one man killed and several wounded. I left a physician with Simcoe and proceeded on."

Simcoe says it was five bullets that struck his horse and that he was stunned by the violence of his fall, coming to his senses to find himself a prisoner.

Meanwhile, Captain van Voorhees, reportedly together with some mounted militia, had joined the attack, and was pursuing the Loyalist riders, now under the command of Captain Sanford. According to Simcoe;

"The militia assembling, Captain Sanford drew up and charged them, when they fled. A Captain Voorhees, of the Jersey Continental troops, was overtaken, and a Hussar, at whom he had fired, killed him."

Captain Guest's account provides more detail;

“…we witnessed a scene that was truly distressing. We found Captain Peter Voorheis lying in the road, mortally wounded, and, to all appearance, nearly breathing his last breath. He had just returned from General Sullivan's army, and, with a few militia horsemen, was pursuing so close on the enemy's rear as to cause a detachment to sally out. They soon came up with him and cut him with their broad swords in a most shocking manner, which caused his death in a few hours."

Feeling was high in New Brunswick at the violent death of this native son, and subsequent threats against Simcoe's life ultimately had to be addressed by Governor Livingston's order on October 2nd, 1779 that he be treated according to the rules of war. Lt, Col. Henry Dearborn of the New Hampshire Troops who were part of General Sullivan's force then encamped at Easton, heard the news of Voorhees's killing on October 28th and wrote in his Journal:

"On this day receivd the particulars of a most horrid piece of cruelty committed by a party of British hors, which is as follows:- A party of British hors under the [com]mand of Colo. Simco made an excurtion into Jersey from Staten Isl[and], took a circuitous rout of about 30 miles in which they burnt a foragg yard & plunderd several defencless houses, on their return a small party of Millitia collected under the command of Capts van Voras & Wool, two Continental Officers who had been with Genrl. Sullivan on the western Expedition - they form'd an ambuscade which they drew the Enimy into, killed several & made several prisoners, among the latter was Colo. Simco. - Capts van Voras & Wool along with several others on hors back pursu'd the Enimy some considerable distance until they rallyd & turnd upon their pursuers, who ware obliged to give way. Capt. Van Voras being further advanced than any other, & his hors being very much fatigued was overtaken by the Enimy and obliged to surrender himself prisoner; the party that took him conveyed him to the main party, 7 after examining him fell to hacking him with thier Swords in sight of Capt. Wool & others of his party; after satisfying their more then Savage Spite they left him expiring on the ground. Capt. Wool & some others immediately rode up to him & found him cut & hack'd in a most barbarous manner, his arms cut off , his head cut to pieces & in fact appeerd to have been massacred by the most cruel Savages, this was done by the humane Britons, let every Briton blush at the idea.-"

Col. Dearborn may have found it all to easy to imagine the massacre in terms of a frontier atrocity, having just returned from a scorched earth campaign against the Iroquois which included the skinning of dead Iroquois by to make boot tops for two officers of the Jersey Line and the torture and decapitation of prisoners taken by the Indians. He may also have given extra credence to the account because Captain Isaiah Wool of the 2nd Artillery may well have been known to him personally, having been captured along with Dearborn in the assault on Quebec. I find no other account that links Wool with the events surrounding Voorhees' death. Intriguingly, Washington's correspondence on November 1st, 1779 from West Point to General Maxwell in command of the Jersey Brigade makes reference to having received a letter from Maxwell dated October 30th and delivered by Captain Wool.

Predictably, the patriot and loyalist press gave conflicting accounts of the death of Captain Van Voorhees. The New Jersey Gazette on November 3, 1779 claimed that "Captain Peter Voorhees, of the First Jersey Regiment, unfortunately fell into their hands near Brunswick, and was massacred in a most shocking manner." Another paper [The New-York Journal and the General Advertiser, Nov. 1, 1779] likewise claimed that Captain Voorhese (a young gentleman much esteemed) had been "wantonly murdered". A loyalist New York paper mentioned only that a Captain Voorhies was killed, and Rivington's Royal Gazette on November 3rd printed a letter, purporting to be from a participant in Simcoe's raid, that describes Voorheis' death as part of a legitimate combat. Other secondary sources repeat the claim of Voorhees's murder but offer no additional evidence in support. Captain Guest, who actually saw Voorhees lying mortally wounded in the road, was moved on November 10th, 1779 to write a poem in elegy that does not lay the charge of murder.

In the end, it was a minor episode in what was often a savage and brutal conflict. Voorhees was lamented as a patriot martyr and Simcoe would eventually become the Lt.-Governor of Canada.

October 04, 2012

Today is the 235th anniversary of the Battle of Germantown during the Philadelphia Campaign. The family and I will take part in a reenactment of one of its central actions, the fight around the Chew House or "Cliveden", in which the 1st and 3rd NJ regiments commanded by my ancestors Matthias Ogden and Elias Dayton suffered their heaviest casualties of the war (with Brandywine several weeks before a close second).

"The evening of the third we marched off with the whole army, with the design to attach the enemy, who lay near Germantown; about fifteen miles distant from us; unfortunately for us the night proved very dark, which so retarded our march that we did not reach the enemy's advanced post until sunrise, whereas our design was to attack them at first dawn of day. At sunrise the fire began: their advanced party soon gave way, our people pursued them closely to the main body, which they immediately attacked likewise, and they soon gave way, and were pursued from field to field with great loss on their side.

We suffered considerable in advancing, by a party of the enemy had thrown into a large stone house, said to belong to Benj. Chew. At this place fell Capt. McMyer and Ensign Hurley of Col. Ogden's regiment; Capt. Conway, Capt. Morrison, Capt. Baldwin and Lt. Robinson wounded, of the same regiment, together with about 20 men; Of my regiment Lt. Clark and Ensign Bloomfield were wounded and 18 men killed and wounded; my horse was shot under me at the same place, within about three yards of the corner of the house.

About this time came on perhaps the thickest fog known in the memory of man, which, together with the smoke, brought on almost midnight darkness, it was not possible at one time (I believe for the space of near half an hour) to distinguish friend from foe five yards distance. This obliged all our parties to give over the pursuit, as they were in danger of firing upon their friends, and probably did several times before the fire ceased. At this instant the enemy rallied their scattered forces and advanced upon us, when we retreated in turn, though with very little loss. I believe every man we had either killed or wounded met his fate full in front as he was advancing. We had one Brigadier General who was shot in the thigh with a cannon ball, of which wound he died three days afterwards. Our good Major Witherspoon was shot dead by a cannon shot in the head as we were advancing through the streets of Germantown."

A return of the 3rd NJ on October 6th, 1777 shows 26 officers, 16 NCOs, 9 musicians and 150 Rank and File present fit for duty, and lists casualties from Germantown as 1 NCO and 5 Rank and file killed, 2 officers, 1 NCO and 12 Rank and File wounded, and 1 NCO and 4 men missing.

The breakdown of casualties in the 1st NJ were likely as great or perhaps even higher given the high toll of officers killed and wounded. Ensign Martin Hurely was wounded but did not die in battle, but rather was captured and executed by the British afterward as a deserter from the 44th Regiment of foot back in 1775 in Boston. He later served in the 1st NJ beginning in its 1st establishment, rising from private to sergeant and then to Ensign.

October 01, 2012

All of the following are transcriptions from actual soldier diaries. They appeal to me not only because of what they reveal about the authors and the circumstances in which they found themselves in the defense of Liberty during the American Revolution, but also as the author of the fictional Journal of Constant Belcher. That character could easily have penned such sentiments as these, were he not a figment of my imagination.

[Aug] 20. [1775] [New London, CT] - "Sunday morning we got ready for to go to meeting, and the officers came and said that we must not go to meeting without breeches, and it was so hot that I could not bear to wear them, and I did not go to meeting in the forenoon. I went to see a crazy man and there was a man that he knew him, and he got mad, and I think I never saw such a sight in my life. He was chained and he would spring at us and hallo at us. There was one stout man that said he never saw a man that he was afraid of before. In the afternoon I went to meeting."

[April] 25th [1776] (New York) "During the Course of last Week I several times visited The Holy Ground, before described. When I visited them at first, I thought nothing could exceed them for impudence and immodesty; but I found the most I was acquainted with them the more they excelled in their Brutallity. To mention the perticulars of their Behaviour would so pollute the Paper I write upon that I must excuse myself.

The whole of my aim in visiting this Place at first was out of Curiosity, as was also that of the chief of the Gentlemen that accompanied; & and it seems strange that any Man can so divest himself of Manhood as to desire an intimate Connexion with these worse than Brutal creatures, yet it is not more strange than true that many of our Officers & Soldiers have been so imprudent as to follow them, notwithstanding the salutory advice of their Friends; till the Fatal Disorder seized them & convinced them of their Error. I am informed that not less than 40 men of one Regt which last Sunday set off for Quebeck were infected with that disorder. What fine order these Men must be in to undergo a fateigueing March through a cold uninhabited Country! Unless there is some care taken of these horrid Wretches by the Genl, he will soon have his Army greatly impaired, for they not only destroy Men by Sickness, but they sometimes inhumanly Murther them; for since Monday last two Men were found inhumanly Murthered & concealed, besides one who was castrated in a barbarous Manner. This so exasperated the Men that in the face of day they assembled and pulled down the houses where the men were thus treated, 7 with great difficulty the Guards dispersed them after they had levelled them to the Ground. This, altogether with the common Riots incident to such Places, made our Men a little more Cautious how the ventured to profaner Holy Ground with their Presense."

29 "...an old Whore who had been so long Dead that she was rotten was this Day found concealing in an out House at the Holy Ground."

[May 7, 1776] (Retreat to Sorrel, Canada) "I am still unwell, very much weakened with the disorder that has attended me these four days past; am obliged to go by water; went with Gen. Wooster who is a kind to me as a father. We set sail at sunset - the other boats to follow - came several leagues; ran on the reefs twice, but through mercy, no damage. Wind high and the current strong, but with great difficulty put into the east shore; went up the high banks to a house at 2 o'clock and slept two hours; The boatmen sing a very pretty air to 'Row the boat, Row' which ran into my head when half asleep, nor could I put it entirely out of mind with all our gloom and terror, with the water up to my knees as I lay in the boat. My difficulty was, one passage I could not get."

[December] the 19th [1777]-- "in the morning we marchd to
our winter Quarters -- we marchd all Day without
Victuals having nothing to Eat -- we went into the woods & Sleept in huts
as usual"

[December 20] -- "we found a Corn feild where was
Corn which we took & Eat after we Roasted it in the fire some -- we Pounded
with two stones & made Samp to thicken
our Broth -- Some we Carried to mill & Got it Ground into meal -- towards
Night we Drew Some Poor Beef & one Days flower -- this Decembr 20th
1777"

the 21st "Sunday -- we had warm Pleasant
weather & Nothing to Eat but a Little flower made with Coarse Indian meal
& a Little Flower mixd with it -- at Night the fortune of war Put into our hands a Poor Sheep which we Roasted & boild which Gave the
Company a Good Super which we Eat & turnd in"

[December 22] -- "Sleept Qietly untill morning when
we Receivd orders to march in fifteen minits -- we Paraded the Regt. &
Grounded our arms & Drew flower for one day & Baked it But no meat as
yet but a Party of Volenteers turnd out to Goe to get Some Cattle from Toreys
-- we had nothing to Eat Untill 10 o clock at Night when we had a Ram Cooked
roast & boild which 3 of our Company took & killd as they traveld on
their way -- about 10 o clock A Detachment went from here to Goe Down towards
the Enemy etc."

23d -- "we turnd out a Party of men to Build huts for
our winter Quarters -- in the afternoon had some mutton Served out to us for one
day & Drumd a whore out of Camp & set her over Schullkill River for
theaft -- this night Capt. Lee took 13
Light horse & 8 Riders of the Enemy & Brought them in."

September 30, 2012

This blog has now reached its 7th Anniversary. Thanks to Facebook, a regular newspaper column, and a much happier home life, I do not use this blog as I did in the early years as my primary creative and social outlet. Still, I am pleased by the connections it continues to make for me and for others, and from time to time find new reason to post things here. The long form post, in the end, still has a place in the blogosphere despire all the Tweets and Likes that predominate elsewhere. And like any archive, it still requires a curator.